


A Swindle Play (for a positional draw)

by dontneedaclassroom



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M, Hamiathes's Gift, Plotting, Scheming, Scheming and Plotting, very nearly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontneedaclassroom/pseuds/dontneedaclassroom
Summary: Hamiathes' Gift is going into the volcano, but the magus has time for one more play.
Relationships: Eddis | Helen/The Magus, Eddis | Helen/The Magus (unrequited)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	1. The Queen of Eddis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jonphaedrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/gifts).



> The copy-paste error in chapter 2 has been corrected; if you read the story within 8 hours or so of Yuletide reveals, please give it another look! <3

The formal ceremony recognizing the presentation of Hamiathes's Gift ended, leaving every witness with a bone-deep respect for the sovereignty of Eddis. This was deeply uncomfortable for the magus, both professionally and personally.

Barely five weeks afterward, Eddis announced she was going to throw Hamiathes's Gift into the volcano of the Sacred Mountain.

For all the pomp and solemnity surrounding the planned great procession, the most prominent feature to the magus's eye was simply how small Eddis was, as a country.

Fewer than twenty thousand people lived in the capital city. Even if a few thousand people traveled in from the surrounding provinces, and all the army that could be spared from the borders... the largest possible procession to the peak of the volcano would be smaller than one of the High Holy Day parades through the capital of Sounis.

Eddis's court reflected this size disparity. Of her eleven ministers, more than half were related to the queen within the third degree of kinship, and two more by marriage. All but one resided within the actual palace complex, rather than in the town. Eddis's palace guard was only fifty men.

The magus had known all of this, of course. He had read the reports, drawn up battle plans, schemed and planned around these numbers. Eddis hadn't yet repopulated from the great plague, and the population had always been somewhat smaller in any case simply due to the lack of arable land for intensive agriculture.

On his previous visit, the magus had not stayed long, and had been mainly focused on presenting his vision of a unified peninsula to the queen's advisory council. But after living in the court for a few weeks with no duties or plans to focus on, he realized that his misunderstanding was precisely why his previous offers and threats had failed.

Eddis was... _safe_. In a way that he had previously thought no ruler could be safe, even in their own realm. Maybe especially in their own realm.

The queen was accompanied by only two soldiers and a handmaiden as she went about her business in the palace. The magus suspected the second man might be a sop to his own presence in the palace - from something the Minister of War had said (Eugenides' father, _gods_ ), it seemed that Eddis might usually have only a single guard and a single handmaiden in her entourage. Although, as something of a military man himself, he watched the way these handmaidens carried themselves and suspected that they might be somewhat less decorative than the women of Sounis and Attolia's courts.

No wonder Eddis was so resistant to the benefits of unification. From her perspective, she would only be less safe if she exposed herself to the court of Sounis and accepted his "protection."

The magus felt it in his bones: moving the queen of Eddis would require external pressure. A war or an invasion by the Mede might be the only way to do it.

A week before the procession was set to depart he had another thought. Perhaps the leverage of the gods themselves might move her; Hamiathes's Gift, after all, was not in the volcano yet.

That same day, the magus learned his opinions of himself had been too high, and was glad that he had never mentioned his theory about Eddis's increased guard presence to anyone else.

Of course, _of course_ , the extra guard was because Eddis was wearing Hamiathes's gift.

He had overheard the minister of war saying how foolish it was to wear it out in the open, but Eddis had replied imperturbably that she was going to milk the rock for all it was worth before she threw it in the damned volcano.

That meant more public audiences, not fewer, and a couple of public royal proclamations to boot. If she could, she would do a royal tour of all her baronies first so every minor noble of her lands - and every gods-damned sheepherder - would see and know that her rule was supported by divine favor. But apparently the Gift had to be in the volcano before the snows closed the passes, which could be any week now with winter closing in. As many of the barons as possible were coming into the capital to see the ceremony, and that would have to do. No one would thank her for making them take the return trip on sleds, or forcing them to over-winter in the capital.

Personally, the magus was inclined to agree that the best place on earth for Hamiathes's gift was on the person of Eddis.

When he had visited last year, bearing the first serious marriage proposal from Sounis, the magus hadn't taken any particular notice of Eddis in her own person. She had been a plain, sturdy woman to his eye. A capable ruler, worthy of the respect due any sovereign, but not eye-catching.

He had thought he understood the power of the Gift when he took it from Gen's hands outside the water temple. The certainty that the stone was truly an artifact of the gods had been very odd, especially for a man who fancied himself a natural philosopher, but it was a subtle, personal revelation.

When the magus had been brought into Eddis's presence five weeks ago, as a captive of her mountain guards, he had been overwhelmed with fatigue and pain and Gen's treachery and not paying attention at all.

Then Gen had given Hamiathes's Gift to Eddis, and its power was embodied in a human woman, elevated to righteous ruler of her people and incontrovertibly blessed, and - well.

Standing next to Eddis wearing the Gift felt like standing next to a cannon. Her Presence rang in his ears. The magus couldn't stop his thoughts from capitalizing the word Presence. He wanted to genuflect every time she took her throne, even the smaller everyday throne that was used for the everyday rule of the country. Perhaps especially when she was on the little throne, because she wore the throne and the Gift both so naturally.

It was incredibly magnetic.

She was magnetic.

She was _magnificent_.

In fact, it was becoming a bit embarrassing. As the days went on, and he was privileged to watch her conduct the public business of state, his urge to kneel at her feet transformed itself into a more specific, private desire to kneel at her feet. And, um. Worship. Possibly. If he would be permitted.

Which would never happen, of course. It would be a disaster both politically and personally. Even if he could bear to make the suggestion, which he couldn't, she could never possibly accept, and wouldn't wish to in any case. The whole thing was impossible.

Nevertheless, he was unable to make himself stay away from her Presence. He was only going to have this chance for a limited time. There had been less than two months between the presentation of the Gift (damn Gen anyway) and the planned ceremony to toss it into the caldera of a volcano (what a waste), and the time was almost past. The Eddisians were proud of their old gods, and the magus would never again write them off as quaint old legends, and apparently this was the gods' will.

For these intervening weeks, he took in as much of her magnificence as he could stand, an overflowing cup.

He gradually found that his mind wandered. Not away from her Presence, but to how he could get more of it. Of course he had been trying to arrange a marriage to Sounis for literally years, so he was something of an expert on the question of how to get Eddis into Sounis. It was just that he was now considering the personal ramifications, in addition to the thundering currents of history poised to crash down upon the peninsula.

That line of thinking eventually brought him around to consider - the true qualification of the Thief of Eddis was, in the end, to steal Hamiathes's Gift. And the Gift was not in the volcano yet.

Having seen the Gift in action, he knew his original plan would have worked if he could have gotten the Gift across the mountains. (Setting aside the gods' obvious favor of Eugenides.)

If Sounis were to gain possession of the Gift, he too would be visibly the rightful ruler... presumably of Eddis, which might look a little strange in Sounis's throne room, actually. Would the power of the stone extend the halo of blessed sovereignty to his rule of Sounis, too? It might do the reverse, and dissolve Sounis into a province of Eddis by the gods' will. He had never considered the question in his academic research on the subject, when he thought of the stone as a historically significant but mundane artifact. But regardless of the specific manifestation of power, Eddis - Helen - would have to unite their kingdoms.

The magus spent two more days trying to find out more about how the Gift had historically functioned as a tool of statecraft, but it had been five hundred years since the stone had been hidden to protect it from invaders, so it had obviously fallen out of everyday use.

The old legends were vanishingly spare with the details of how the law of the Gift actually worked. The magus had read more on the subject than perhaps any scholar alive, but he had always been focused on the _where,_ rather than the _how_. He suspected the members of the court knew more, because the whole court was buzzing with the stone's effects, but they were frustratingly tight-lipped with him. As soon as he approached anyone the conversation was all about the price of oil (outrageous), the predicted snowpack (deep), and the imminent procession (ambitious).

He could respect the value of totally loyal subjects who kept their mouths shut, but this was frankly starting to seem ridiculous. Hah, it was like they didn't want a foreigner to steal the sovereignty of their nation away through a technicality.

He knew Sounis had a few spies in the household (never as many as they wanted), and he even knew who two of them were. But was this long shot a good enough reason to possibly reveal their identities? It might take them a decade to get someone friendly so highly placed among the Minister of Trade's aides, and while a second cook was a less demanding role, she was even less likely to have the information the magus needed.

Gen had said, _if you tried to steal it and got caught, they threw you off the mountain_. And no one would or could tell the magus anything more specific.

Gen was still largely bedridden, or at least confined to his library. This was inconvenient on the one hand, because the magus might have been able to coax some more information out of him if he was allowed to visit. On the other hand, the assigned phalanx of doctors seemed fully prepared to sit on Gen bodily if he got too energetic, so that was one major piece off the board for this final play. The magus flattered himself that he could hold his own against any of the other members of the Eddisian court when it came to subtlety.

The magus was allowed to tour the town a bit, though always under a guard of four men, and never in company with Sophos. However courteous the terms of his captivity, his captors were not stupid.

There were two jewelers with shops along the outside of the main square. One craftswoman selling more humble ornaments had a stall among the clothiers and household implements. Her wood and bone and cleverly knotted cord were all of exquisite make but humble materials. Those Eddisian winters at work, no doubt.

He spared a lingering glance at the very largest pendant in the stall, a geode near-filled with amethyst crystals, carefully smoothed to bring out the beauty of the stone. It was nearly the size of the Gift, though of course it had none of the presence. It caught his eye because the Gift was on his mind, but it would never fool anyone who had seen the real thing. Perhaps a crowd would accept it, at a distance.

No one else was showing any interest in the crafter, so he approached her for a bit of light conversation without shame. He had no coin to buy even if he wanted to, but he hoped that some gossip might help her win some attention from other customers, since she was having so little luck on this chill autumn day.

"Such beautiful carvings," he said. "May I take a closer look?"

The crafter squinted at the guards with open suspicion.

"They with you or for you?" She spoke with a back mountain accent that took him a moment to parse, much thicker than Gen's put-on version.

"Oh, we're for him, goodwife," said the sergeant of his little group of ducklings. "He's a thief, sure enough, but no lightfingers."

"Aye, we'll watch him," another put in.

The magus rolled his eyes. "If you prefer I did not, I'm happy to admire from here," he said. "Do you see many thieves escorted about the town with four of the Queen's guard trailing like ducklings?"

"Only when he's been dipping his cousins' braids in inkpots," the woman snorted, with a reluctant smile.

The magus grinned back at her. "I've spent only a little time in his company, but I find I can imagine it handily. Are the Thieves of Eddis always so tolerated by the townsfolk? As a visitor in these lands I keep being surprised by everyone's willingness to laugh instead of curse. Is it always so with the Thieves?"

"Plenty of cursing too," she said, and one of the guards huffed an agreement. "But they don't bother us much down here, save in passing if we get in the way of some scheme or other. It's the high and mighty who must fear. Why, the last Thief once stole the old King's circlet and hung it from the castle walls, out on a pole over the cliff. They couldn't work out how to get it down without denting it, dropping it down the mountain, or breaking some fool's neck. The King had to wear his Crown of State for audiences for a week, and no one saw hide nor hair of the Thief for that whole summer. Who knows what mischief he was doing in the lowlands to keep himself away from the court."

The magus laughed, easily picturing Gen shimmying out to the end of a pole to taunt a king with his own crown.

He moved away with a word of thanks and a wave. He had no money, and as the guard had said so baldly, the magus was no lightfingers. Reluctantly, he let go of his half-formed notion of a decoy stone that might stand in for the Gift.

Watching Eddis talking to Sophos the next morning, he had the idle thought that he might have saved them all some trouble by simply giving the stone to Sophos outside the river temple, instead of trying to get all the way back to Sounis with it. It might have caused some small trouble later if Sounis found another wife and disinherited Sophos, but he suspected Sounis would have understood the strategic choice. He imagined stumbling their way into Eddis's court, after being dragged all the way up the mountain into Eddis, and Sophos pulling the Gift out of his hair instead of Gen. He wondered if the high priest would have validated the divine status of the stone for them without an army to strengthen their claim to the crown.

And then he wondered if that would work now.

The version of Hamiathes's story he had read in the ancient reference texts said that the tradition of the Gift was supposed to remove the necessity of civil war, because when a Thief stole the stone and presented it to their candidate, the rightful sovereignty passed peacefully. If he plucked the stone off Eddis's neck and presented it to Sophos immediately, would that satisfy the dictates of the tradition?

If Sophos were presented with the Gift, and proposed marriage to Helen immediately... if she accepted Sophos's proposal, he could even present the Gift right back to her, to save her pride. Sophos didn't need to _stay_ the rightful ruler of Eddis, after all. And then, they could go throw the rock in the volcano as planned.

There was a window here, if he was quick enough to take advantage. Five days remained before the procession left for the volcano.


	2. The Shrine of Eugenides

The shrine of Eugenides was much closer to the palace walls than the high temple where the formal ceremony of the presentation of the Gift had taken place. It was also much more approachable – the magus would have had to go through formal diplomatic channels to get an audience at the high temple. It would have taken days to arrange through Sounis’ ambassador, and there was no possibility of any kind of candid conversation that way at all.

At the shrine, trinkets large and small were hung on the decorative screens behind the altar, knotted on ribbons strung across the ceiling, piled on the floor against the altar. On the altar itself, the choicest offerings were displayed - some large emerald earrings, a heavily ornamented golden wrist cuff, a small but intricate stone statue of a dancing woman embellished with gems.

A priestess emerged from behind the screen, looked him up and down, and asked, "A foreign visitor?"

The magus gestured at the guards following behind him with their hands still on their swords. "A guest, yes. Just admiring the opulence of your shrine."

The priestess snorted. "Yes, the god of thieves is well looked-after in the capital. As a friendly warning, know that everything you see here has been consecrated to the god. It is not permitted to take anything from the altar. Even, or perhaps especially, if it belonged to you before it was consecrated."

"No fear of that; on this visit, even my clothes are borrowed. Do thieves go entirely unpunished in Eddis, then?"

"Hah, no." The priestess gave a wry smile and stroked a finger over the stone statue on the altar. "Only thefts freely consecrated are accepted as offerings - meaning, they must be given before law enforcement accuses the thief."

"This is certainly a vast store of treasure to be held so publicly," he said. "Do many thieves support the shrine?"

"Oh, most of the impressive items are specifically dedicated by the line of royal thieves, you know. The coins and household items, those might come from any passing worshiper or common thief. But when something really interesting turns up, we all know who is likely responsible." Her eyes turned up towards the castle, and she smiled to herself.

"I hear he is something of a folk hero here,” the magus said, “but I can't imagine his victims share that opinion."

"Many of them don't, certainly. Take those earrings there. The baroness Clytemnestra got those from her husband at Midwinter last year. Probably an apology for being indiscreet with his mistress. But in any case, she flashed them about at all the spring gatherings, and started saying how it takes a real woman to carry off large jewels, little girls should stick to pearls. Apparently _someone_ ," with a significant nod uphill, "got annoyed about it. Next thing you know, we have a lovely new ornament for the god."

The magus happened to have noticed that Helen's favorite earrings were pearls. At least, knowing Eugenides had a habit of stealing jewelry right off of people, the magus didn't have to feel quite so self-conscious about losing the Gift from around his own damn neck.

"And there is no petition for redress?" he asked. "What if someone were to steal them back?"

"It is said the god does not tolerate such arrogance. He is jealous of his things, since his brother was taken from him."

The magus was unprepared for such a straightforward profession of faith about something so concrete. He looked around again. Aside from the guards who had accompanied him from the castle, he could see no other security in place at all. And yet, there sat the piles of treasures.

“Many people have traveled to the capital to see Hamiathes’s Gift in the last few weeks. Do you find the power of it has strengthened their faith?”

“Offerings have been generous this past month, it is true,” she admitted. “I don’t know whether it is faith or sensible caution. Myself, I was sent to the priesthood as a child because I had a vision of Hephestia, so I have always felt the gods walking close beside me. Several of the others in the temples here are the same, including the High Priest. But I know most people in Eddis have kept up the old ways only from habit, and to set themselves apart from the lowlands. It’s difficult for me to judge.”

“I think I saw you in the High Priest’s retinue at the formal ceremony of the presentation of the Gift, didn’t I? It must have been a thrill for all of you.”

The magus was startled to see an echo of some deep emotion in the priestess’s eyes, before she turned her face away to the altar.

“Of course, the Queen’s Thief had already presented the stone. But truly, the gods’ eyes were on the High Priest’s work authenticating Hamiathes’s Gift, and also on the ceremony recognizing the queen as its bearer. I felt we could not put a step wrong, with the Gift in our hands.”

The magus felt enormous satisfaction at finally getting some of his key answers, but he could not give any indication in front of his guards. At the same time, he somehow had not been prepared for the priestess to be emotional about the Gift; he had no idea what to say. He cast about for an innocuous turn for the conversation, but was saved by the priestess herself.

"Do you recognize the figure of the stone woman here?" she asked, turning it to face the magus.

The magus raised his eyebrows inquiringly and she continued. "Some few years ago now, maybe ten years after the great plague, a Mede trader came through Eddis from Attolia. He thought very highly of himself, expected to be sat as a guest at the palace, you know the type. Well, if he had been polite and generous he might well have been invited to sup with the queen one night, but he didn't get the chance. When he set up his stall in the market, he put up this statue of a goddess, too. He told all his customers of her greatness when they bought his fine spices. We didn't much like foreign gods when the invaders came to the lowlands, and we haven't got much fonder of them since."

"And so the foreign goddess comes to reside in the shrine of Eugenides."

"Just so." The priestess stroked the stone figure again, with a certain proprietary air that made the magus grin at her.

"And the Mede?"

"Who knows? I've never heard a Mede proselytizing here since I've been priestess though, and that's near 15 years now."

The magus shifted his weight on his feet a bit, angling for an offer of refreshment. The priestess eyed the magus's guards skeptically and didn't offer.

"Well, it has been a pleasure,” the magus said, “and I thank you for the delightful conversation. Perhaps I will visit again next time I'm permitted to visit the city."

"If you come again, bring an offering." The priestess sniffed a little, glancing at the guards again, and turned to disappear behind the screen.

An offering. Hm.

He mused on the problem as he moved back up the hill to the palace. 

Back in Sounis, the magus had little enough wealth personally, but enormous influence on policy and politicians. Here, he had nothing to his name at all.

If the magus got his hands on Hamiathes’s Gift, and gave it to Sophos, Sophos would propose marriage to Helen immediately. If she accepted, Sophos would then have to choose whether to give the stone back to Eddis, or keep it for himself. Regardless, both Sophos and the magus would be relying on Helen to keep her word on the betrothal and also not to execute them.

He had been looking for leverage that might suffice to convince a member of the priesthood to truthfully authenticate the Gift for them. But this priestess spoke of the god Eugenides and her faith in such straightforward terms. She – and the high priest – would probably feel that their gods’ eyes on them again, if Sophos and the magus could run fast enough to bring the Gift back into the temple or the shrine. He was now willing to bet, they would come down on the side of truth.

He smiled to himself as he walked back up the hill to the castle. If Eddis simply kicked him out of the gates and refused him entrance to the city, he would have a difficult time reaching Sounis's borders before winter, with no money or resources at all. (Even if he wasn't being chased as a thief by every Eddisian subject with a sword.)

At dinner that night, Helen and Sophos sat next to each other at the high table, sharing a bowl of oil. The light gleamed off Hamiathes's Gift where it lay just below Helen's collarbones. The magus felt an insidious tightening between his shoulder blades and up his neck that drove him early to his room, pleading a tension headache.


	3. The Pieces in Play

In the end, for all the magus's attempts at research, stealth, and guile, there wasn't time for anything complicated. He thought of how Gen had sliced through all his elaborate plans with a simple knife through a leather cord.

Eddis wore the stone on a golden torque about her neck, which could not be sliced with a simple knife. And of course she had her guards, who would not like to let the magus close to her.

If he could get close enough to put his hand on the necklace, how would he get it off?

He had no opportunity to examine the clasp or practice opening it quickly and one-handed. (He was sure Gen could have done it blindfolded.) The queen went armed, though only with a long belt-knife. Thinking of her straight shoulders and strong wrists, he couldn't help but recall that her sword tutors were the same as Gen's.

If the queen took the necklace off herself, he would not have to figure out the clasp.

The image hit him with the force of a practice sword cracking a bone.

Helen was not engaged yet - and did not make any effort to portray herself as a virgin queen.

If he seduced Helen - if he were allowed to worship at her altar for a night - if he betrayed her trust so intimately, he would know when the necklace bearing the Gift was unguarded. Could he coax her so well into sleep that she did not secure it before he could take it? Could Sophos find a place to loiter somewhere nearby? Could he bear to leave Helen's bed still warm and slip the most precious stone in two nations into his own pocket, and give it into Sophos's hands?

Sophos, still a boy, who would with the stone win the right to touch Helen himself.

If he got caught, the magus would be thrown off the mountain. _Not exile,_ Gen had said. _Over the edge of the mountain_.

If Sophos completed his mad dash through town, and made it to either the shrine of Eugenides or to the high temple... and if the priests followed their solemn vows and validated the stone's authenticity... then the title of Eddis would pass from Helen to Sophos. And then, if the magus had not been executed already, Sophos-Eddis would name the magus his Thief. (Perhaps the magus would not fall to his death after all.) Or, if Sophos gave the Gift back immediately, possibly Helen-Eddis would name Sophos her Thief.

One way or another, the title of Eugenides would pass from the boy tossing still feverish in his little library upstairs. Just as the magus had planned those many months before, before he knew Gen's sharp tongue and quick hands and dogged, endless determination to serve his queen.

Gen had not scrupled to be locked in a dungeon for the chance to give his queen this treasure. He had lied to Sounis's face, to Attolia's face, to his traveling companions.

Gen lay in his library, recovering from wounds he took defending the magus and Sophos and Pol when he didn't have to, when his own goal was already in sight.

Could the magus match Gen's ruthlessness? Could he match his honor?

Could he worship at Helen's feet for one night, and then steal her borrowed godhead to serve a different kingdom?

He had to try.


	4. The Move

The next morning, the magus put on a twinkle in his eye and a woebegone pout, and convinced one of Eddis's female cousins to teach him a few of the dances favored at court. Sophia was a widow a decade older than Eddis, not so far off from the magus's age, and had talked sensibly about the new iron mine that would open in the spring. Possibly he should have asked her for lessons weeks ago; he knew his avoidance of the dancing made him seem unsociable. He couldn't possibly meet with Sophia to practice in private, so she organized a piper to meet them in the guards' practice yard in the morning after the early exercises. The off-shift guards lounged about the edges to laugh at him and call corrections to his technique.

The magus had never danced, as he had never listened to nursery stories, as he had never courted a woman in earnestness. But he had trained as a soldier for many years, and he found the patterns of the dance were not so different from the patterns of a drill. Sophia laughed at him too, but in a kindly way.

The second morning, Sophia bullied six of the guards to come and assist. The magus was pettily pleased at their difficulty picking up the ladies' parts to make up a proper line. Afterward, she pronounced him fit to dance in the great hall. "You are not the only born soldier in the court," she said. "You will not step on anyone's feet or spin the wrong way and turn the line into a rout, and that's enough to be going on with." He bowed and kissed her hand in the Sounisian style, and he had the pleasure of watching her ears turn pink. "If I meet you in the hall tonight, may I claim the honor of a dance?" She nodded, eyes wide. Instead of replying, she turned to the guards who had danced with them and said, "Now you lot have no excuse either, so at the midwinter dance I expect to have a partner every song." The magus smiled and went to find some lunch.

The atmosphere at Eddis's banquets could not be more different than the courts of Attolia or Sounis. In Attolia, the tension and shifting alliances and barely-sheathed aggression between the barons filled the room, so thick it poisoned the air like incense. In Sounis, it was all smiling insults, private deals, and unpredictable proclamations from the king.

Here in Eddis, the jockeying for favor was subdued, and annoyance was often accompanied by a long-suffering kind of affection.

There were indeed country dances, and the magus was now able to jump into the lines and circles on some of them. He even caught one with Sophia. In between, he slowly drifted across the room until he was just outside the radius of the queen's conversation.

When the musicians called another song he recognized, the magus turned toward the queen and made eye contact. With a crook of his elbow and a raised eyebrow, he silently invited her to the line with him.

She was startled, he could tell, and they were standing slightly too far apart for an easy conversation. But when he moved closer, she stepped away from her circle of conversation and extended her hand to his elbow after all. Her guards were clearly unhappy - one put a reflexive hand to his sword - but they let her go without any real protest.

"Your majesty," he said, "you are especially charming tonight." He had meant to say something teasing, or clever, but instead he stumbled over that brush of Eddis's hand and came out with this insipid platitude instead. His voice was a little breathy, even. It was absurd.

"Magus," she responded, "I haven't seen you on the dance floor even once before tonight. What changed?"

"How could I continue to resist?" At her unimpressed look, he laughed and admitted, "Your cousin Sophia deigned to grant me a few lessons."

By then the music picked up too much for easy conversation, and they whirled and swapped partners with those to either side, and the magus kept to propriety. He just let his hand linger on hers just the slightest bit longer than Eddisian fashion permitted.

At the end of the dance, he did indulge himself a little, though. He tugged her hand up, as though he would kiss it in the Sounisian style like he did with her cousin. But when he raised his eyes to meet hers he pretended to remember himself, and hastily dropped her hand.

"Ah, it was a pleasure, your majesty."

She actually blushed. It was not a charming pink on the ears like her cousin, but a fiery red over her whole face and down her neck. Her lips parted as though to respond, but she didn't say anything, and instead whirled around and returned to her attendants.

That night, he furiously, ashamedly touched himself in his bed, with the fantasy that his lips had met her hand. His mind conjured visions of Eddis's furious blush breaking open into a sultry smile, with a low invitation to join her in her chambers that evening. Alternately, some dark urge suggested Eddis might have knocked him to the ground in outrage right there in front of everyone, demanding he service her to make up for his impertinence.

Afterward, he screamed wordlessly into his pillow in frustration.

Two nights later, Eddis held the final day and night of festivities before the procession would leave the capital to begin the week-long trek to the Sacred Mountain. The crowd was large, and the stakes were high.

Eddis made the most of this last day in the capital to show her might as the ruler truly anointed by the old gods.

She was, again, magnificent.

The magus watched the audiences all day in admiration, as she handled disputes with wisdom and eloquence. Even without the aura of the Gift, he thought it would have been impressive; he wished he had taken more time to observe her personally on his last visit to compare. The petitioners seemed equally dazzled by her Presence, and even the losers in the disputes walked away with a shadow of awe on their faces.

Her afternoon speech from the walls was short but rousing, all about the pride of their unconquered kingdom, and their destiny to be impartial above the plains. He hated the content, but had to admire the style.

At the banquet, he nearly got caught with his mouth hanging open like the freshest country rube. Someone must have gotten a tailor up the mountain who knew something about fashion, because Eddis's usual ill-fitting bodice and sleeves were nowhere to be seen. Instead, she wore a daring style with a low décolletage and no sleeves at all. It showed off her shoulders in a most unusual way, drawing attention to the muscle of her biceps and the clean line of her collarbones. And the Gift, on its golden torque, lying on the smooth bare skin of her chest.

The magus was entranced.

He approached as if he was in a dream, making eye contact from across the room and nodding at one of the punch bowls. When she nodded he found himself grinning like a child. With a healthy heap of shaved ice in the cup, he poured the punch and brought it to her. He presented it with a theatrical flourish and bow, and a few of the ladies gathered around her muffled their laughter behind fans or cups or sleeves, while Eddis's cousin Sophia didn't bother hiding her amusement at all.

The magus trailed his hand lightly over the queen's fingers when he handed over the cup. He caught a little smile on her lips. He wished he could think of another service to do her.

The queen and two ministers' wives were discussing recent innovations in wool spinning. The magus made some contributions to stay in the conversation, but made sure not to speak over any of the ladies.

After a time, the orchestra called out a circle dance he recognized.

"Might I trouble you for a dance this evening again, your majesty? At your convenience, of course, if you are ready for another round."

Eddis smiled at his small pun, and handed her glass off to one of her attendants.

"I would be delighted," she said, and even looked it.

This time, he took the liberty of standing a little closer than necessary, and letting his thumb brush her wrist. He kept his eyes on her throughout the dance, even when the circle moved them to exchange steps with the dancers to either side. He curved his mouth in a very small smile whenever she looked back at him.

On the way back to her circle, the magus gathered up his courage and leaned close to Helen's ear. He had seen several pairs of lovers and spouses share this gesture, so he was confident he was being cheeky but not disrespectful.

"Do you realize how your presence fills the room?" he murmured. "You are... magnetic." She looked at him sharply, and he cast his eyes down.

After a moment, she said, "It is only the Gift." It was a dismissal, and she moved to pull her hand away.

He carefully did not hold her back. He wanted no hint of a snare.

"The Gift only opened my eyes to what was already there," he said instead.

But she didn't meet his eyes again, and the traces of a smile fell from her lips. When she stepped away rather than putting her hand back on his elbow, he felt it like a sudden tear in silk.

"It is very kind of you to say so," she said. "But in truth, I will be glad to have it returned to the gods." She sniffed. "I find it oppressive."

Although they made a little more light conversation back in the queen's circle, the magus's evening was over.

All that remained was to find Sophos in the crowd and touch his shoulder lightly. Sophos turned, their eyes met, and the magus gave a little shake of his head. (There would be no run to the temple before dawn.) Sophos's whole body slumped in relief. Without words, they both downed their wine in one gulp.

The magus retired early.

With his sleeping robe around him, he opened his window and gazed up at the stars. The faint sounds of the orchestra striking up a sirtaki echoed into the night. He felt like an old, old man.

He did not know how he would face Sounis.

Sounis had threatened to set an entire chest of gold as a bounty for Gen's capture, if their expedition did not return with Hamiathes's Gift in hand. Would the magus be able to turn Sounis away from his threat? He might not even have any leverage to do so, if Sounis's wrath fell on the magus in lieu of another target. He had wasted more than a year, and lost Pol and his apprentice in the expedition.

Yet he still had his life, and his honor, and he would have his freedom again as soon as the ransom was negotiated.

And a small corner of his heart had been permanently changed by the sheer power of the Queen of Eddis consecrated by Hamiathes's Gift - he was among the last people on the earth to see the Gift in its proper place, on its proper ruler.

He even thought he might be able to repair his relationship with Eddis – she might accept a sincere overture of apology, after the procession was over and he could not be accused of being under any supernatural influence. (Gods, what would he have done if his original plan had succeeded, and he was suddenly faced with this brutally magnificent Presence embodied in Sounis, a ruler to whom he already owed his full allegiance?) The magus shuddered a little and pulled his robe tighter around himself.

The Gift would soon be gone, eliminating one obscure rule from the game of kings and queens, but one way or another, the peninsula must be united. The game went on, and he was still a player.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was wedged into the canon at the very end of The Thief by extending the time to negotiate the return of Sophos and the magus back to Sounis by a month or two. I also declared that Eddis Helen arranged to destroy the Gift the same year Gen presented it to her, which as far as I can tell was never specified in canon.
> 
> To my Yuletide recipient: I hope you enjoy your Yuletide gift! This ended up really leaning hard into the prompt about the magus's moral compass, and the magus trying "to broker yet another winning hand". I wanted to explore what goes on behind the scenes for characters to make those wild twists pop up in canon seemingly out of nowhere.


End file.
